As I sat in a taxi last night, I realized this once strange city now feels like home. Landmarks like the clock tower, cricket oval, university, high court, skyscrapers, and even smaller aspects like the shoe-shining vendors, sugarcane stalls, and stray dogs have become a normal part of my daily experience. The trains, roads, haggling, and crowds that once felt chaotic now feel normal. With my time here ending, I suspect the culture shock of returning home will be nearly as abrupt as when I landed here 33 days ago.
That being said, Mumbai never stops surprising me, and the past two weeks are a great summary of what life has been like here.
On February 1st, we travelled to Jaisalmer – exploring its living fort, visiting the desert, staying in a palace owned by relatives of the royal family, and even stumbling into a wedding wearing shorts and pyjamas. By Wednesday, Sarah and I were back in Mumbai with a vaccination team in Mandala, one of the poorest parts of the Mankhurd slum area. In the tiny concrete clinic, an unwell man collapsed, hit the floor with a dull thud, and died right in front of us while all the men, women, and children waited to get immunised. The vaccination drive continued as we waited for an ambulance to take the body.
Later, we visited a family of six living in the Mandala dumping ground in a home smaller than my bedroom, built from corrugated iron and debris. The one-year-old had pneumonia, the eldest daughter was blind and cognitively impaired, and the only furniture was a single stretcher.
The next evening, we were in a six-story shopping mall complete with a rollercoaster and arcade. We then went to dinner with a local friend’s family, who welcomed us into their home with warmth and generosity. Just like at the wedding in Jaisalmer, I was touched by their eagerness to share their culture with us.
Friday, I played a hockey match for a local club against a visiting Belgian team. It was an exhibition game complete with a red carpet, guests of honour, and trophies. Saturday, we took a Bollywood dance class with a film director, which was entertaining, to say the least. That night, a group of us impulsively decided to do the Juhu Half Marathon as a fundraiser for Doctors for You. After a rooftop bar outing, we returned home at 3 am, ate, changed, and went straight to the race.
Monday, we went to the public hospital in Govandi. Tuesday, another hockey match. Wednesday, we taught first aid. Thursday, we toured a private hospital that had more in common with a five-star hotel than a medical facility; unsurprisingly, it is owned by the richest man in Asia.
While my previous blog posts have been more structured, I wanted this one to reflect the chaos and contrast of life here. One moment, you’re witnessing a man die in a slum; the next, you’re in a designer mall. One day, you’re in an overcrowded public hospital; the next, a state-of-the-art private hospital that leads India in Neurosurgery.
Mumbai’s extremes and randomness have defined my time here. The phrase “truth is stranger than fiction” has never felt as apparent as it has over the last five weeks. I’m going to miss this place, and I plan to make the most of my final week.
